


Dance for Me

by Sparcina



Series: Transcending Works (Erotic RPFs) [4]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, Loki fetish, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tom knows how to dance, Tom/Loki gives a show, Top!Loki, bottom!tony, dancing in a club, pining!Robert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: Tom has learned capoeira to better play the infamous God of Mischief. Robert knows it, but there's a huge difference between knowing and seeing how that body can move.The Loki fetish doesn't help. At all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by [this](https://67.media.tumblr.com/8175cf7f0bcdd34864050b1aecb57f0e/tumblr_mvwy28Hpfr1qiohfro4_250.gif) sensual show (*winks* snake hips gif).
> 
> For A., who might not be fangirling as intensely as I do, but who still appreciate an eyeful of R&T.

Shooting a movie required weeks of careful preparation, lots of sweating sessions, and a great deal of restless nights. The tradition for the group to go out and celebrate the last day of filming had thus become a highly anticipated event. One of them would book a club, another would invite the staff and make sure everyone, down to the new technician, was invited.

Tom never missed those nights out, and neither did Robert.

“Whatever you feel taste good,” Robert told the barmaid with a grin.

The poor girl hurried to the alcohol cabinet with a blush. Leaning on the counter, Robert waited patiently for his surprise order while texting Jeremy. The guy was late–again–and completely unapologetic. He had apparently managed to hook up with a tall, lean and spectacularly handsome man on his way to the club and was currently–Robert winced–‘going at it’ in one of the club’s bathrooms.

“Here’s your drink,” the barmaid announced.

Robert thanked her gently and turned away from the temptation of further alcohol. He would drink one, maybe two drinks tonight; he might as well savor it. Without being as much as an alcoholic as Tony, he was still prone to intoxication, what with this dark period of his life and all. But now he was much more reasonable and planned to maintain the deliriously relieving statu quo of an addiction-free life.

Too bad that this life was apparently incompatible with sex.

Robert sighed in his glass. The alcohol was nice–he would have to ask the barmaid its name. Sweet and strong, with a note of almond. It sure didn’t beat whatever shenanigans Jeremy was doing in that bathroom, in terms of endorphin at least, but it was a welcome distraction from his current loneliness.

Scarlett was busy flirting with Chris-Thor, whereas Chris-Steve was discussing something serious over his phone with Samuel, who had forgotten to take off his eye patch. A bunch of cameramen and technicians–of which Robert would be hard-pressed to remember the name–were having some sort of competition in the far corner of the club, occupying three tables in a row. Their laughs filled the air. Still, music could be heard, some popular beat that made Robert yearn for his younger years.

He could still dance. Fifty-one was not _that_ old, after all.

“You look like Dum-E doused you with the fire extinguisher again,” remarked somebody in a light tone.

That somebody turned out to be Tom. Robert smiled genuinely at him. Tom of the tousled hair and genuine smile and impeccable manners. He liked Tom. A lot. More than he had any right to, given that the guy was straight as an arrow. Oh, he let Robert hug him and grab his shoulder, but everybody knew Robert was a tactile man, so it was probably just Tom indulging him.

Robert drained his glass, reasonability be damned. Wishful thinking hurt.

“Nah,” he said, trying to relax his tensed frame. Tom’s proximity always made him nervous, because if the man could sense his attraction, what would happen to their friendship? Robert was not going to waste that over some fantasies, even if a part of him, southwards, clearly disagreed.

Tom was straight. Tom was so _not_ interested. Plus, Robert was fifteen years his senior, and even if the mechanics was all still functioning, thanks fitness for that, he could not imagine Tom drooling over a guy–notwithstanding the fact that he wasn’t into guys–that could be his uncle or something equally disgusting.

“You ok?”

Tom looked concerned. A concerned Tom was cute; Robert didn’t need that.

“Go and have fun, Bambi. I’ll just relax a bit before joining the party.”

He pointed his chin at the relatively empty dance floor. Tom snorted.

“Are you going all Tony Stark on me?”

Robert shivered. That tone of voice, Loki’s tone of voice, also wasn’t good for his frayed nerves. He needed his second drink yesterday.

 _I would be going whichever way you please if you would have me_ , he thought, before mentally slapping himself and tapping Tom on the shoulder. Yep, it didn’t make his self-control any closer to steel thinking about Tom begging for his cock, or the other way around. Especially the other way around. He might be entitled to have a Loki fetish, but it was not a safe thing to admit to one’s coworker.

“Go and have fun, ok?”

Tom winked at him. Robert groaned and turned around to get that second drink.

*

The second drink turned into a third, than a fourth. Robert took some consolation in the fact that he was still able to think clearly, that he had just given his wallet to a concerned Chris-Steve, and that Jeremy was back from being laid. Jeremy was now dancing with an awful lot of energy under the stroboscopic lights, laughing with Scarlett and Chris-Thor and other people Robert only knew from sight.

The dancefloor was filling rapidly. Individuals and couples alike swirled on the dark tiles in an ocean of high heels and pointed Italian shoes. Robert himself was tapping his foot in time with the music, but he didn’t dare join the party. Yet.

He was much more interested in looking at Tom.

The man had been dancing for one hour without a single pause. A sheen of sweat coated his collarbone–Robert wanted to lick it. And damn, Tom did know how to dance. How to move. Once he had steeped on the dancefloor, his whole body had gained this godlike quality that allowed him to play Loki for the camera. Tendrils of seduction sparked at his fingertips, shone in his eyes. His lips–slightly open, red, so very kissable–reflected the amusement and sheer pleasure he felt at moving so.

 _Fuckable_.

Tom was fast and nonetheless gracious, as the leopard was in the wild, hunting its prey, mesmerizing it. And Robert was nothing less than that, mesmerized; his eyes could see nothing else past Tom’s body, could find no beauty outside this realm of skin and tight leather pants and blue shirt that contained the gentlest soul he had ever known. Robert could stay like that, sipping at his drink and staring at Tom, for the rest of his life and bear no regret at the end of it. Tom was…

Their eyes met. Tom’s lips curled in a small, almost timid smile. Glee filled Robert, and a stark lust, too. His eyes trailed over Tom’s arms, chest and hips, feasted upon the long and sinuous legs he wished to caress. He could only thank the distance between them, for Tom couldn’t possibly see how blown his pupils were.  

“Having fun?” a voice crooned in his ear.

Robert almost jumped out of his skin. Jeremy snickered at him.

“What was that for?” Robert asked in a pained tone.

“You should talk to him, you know.”

Robert brought up the innocence act. It worked on some people.

“Talk about what, to whom?”

“You know perfectly well that you won’t get into that one’s pants,” Jeremy narrowed his eyes appreciatively at Tom, “by staring from afar. Plus I’m sure you’re tired of being handled by your own hand…”

Robert quickly turned around and smiled stupidly at the crowd. Then back at Jeremy. Then at Tom. Tom returned his glance. Robert gulped as those delicate hands slid down equally delicate, beautiful hips, in one sensuous appeal to the sense that had Robert loose many IQ points in record time. What was Tom doing?

“See?” Jeremy added, crooning again in his ear. “You can’t say what somebody else want unless you ask them, sweetie.”

 _Sweetie?_ Robert could only stare at Tom as the man moved his hips in a very, very arousing fashion. Whatever Tom wanted, it wasn’t slowing down Robert’s heartbeat, or softening his hardened cock. Robert grabbed the counter behind him, knuckles white, and tried to remember how to breathe as his blood rushed to his nether regions.

Tom was definitively looking at him. And he kept undulating those hips in that mind-blowing dance of his, that would have brought any woman, or man, to their knees. And Tony would gladly get on his knees, if Tom only let him.

His knees bucked. He grabbed the counter harder, reining in his urge to go and grab Tom by his collar and claim a free bathroom. Or call a cab and ravish him somewhere more comfortable. He would do anything…

His feet began to move on their own volition. Jeremy pushed him forwards–as if he needed any more encouragement. Tom had his hands extended in the air like the wings of a predatory bird of regal magnitude, flying where everybody else struggled to walk.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough.

Tom cocked his eyes to the side. His pupils, too, were blown wide. Robert licked his lower lip. He had to be dreaming, had to be making up the hands that suddenly found his sides and brought him closer to that hot, moving body. He couldn’t believe that Tom would let him get this close, so close their brows touched. Theirs lips were barely an inch apart, and Robert could smell the mint on Tom’s breath. If he closed his eyes, he could taste it.

He knew how to dance, too. Maybe not as well as Tom, but he could follow and not make a fool of himself as Tom led him into a complicated intricacy of feet and hands. Blood roared back up, in his ears. Sweat poured down his back as shivers ran up his spine. Tom’s smile had turned feral. Whenever Robert smiled at him, that smile faded to a timid twitch of lips, and that was completely bewitching.

Out of breath, Robert stopped dancing before Tom.

“You’re much in shape than I am,” he apologized, wincing at his words.

Tom’s hand stayed on his shoulder. His cheeks were pink.

“Why is it relevant?”

“I…”

Before Robert could think better of it, he leaned forwards and captured Tom’s lower lip between his own.

Tom sagged and gasped. Robert groaned and licked into his mouth, before kissing him deep and sensuously. If he only had one shot at this, he would make sure Tom remembered it until the end of eternity.

Their tongues met. Robert wasn’t sure who invited the other in, but it was Tom who sucked on his tongue, Tom whose fingers’ shook against their chests. His eyes were closed, his hair slick with sweat, and his cock–Robert’s hips jerked forwards–jutted high and long between them. Robert dismissed their colleagues all around them, ignored the music and plundered Tom’s mouth until they were both out of breath and panting.

When he drew back, he saw that Tom’s mouth was deliciously bruised.

“I was told to talk to you,” was what came out Robert’s mouth.

“I’m very glad you came to me.”

Robert took the bait and swallowed it whole.

“Can we go and come somewhere else?”

*

Tom’s apartment was furnished with taste. Robert was sure of that, but he was presently too focused on getting the tenant out of his clothes to notice the decoration. Tom let him shred his shirt to pieces and yank his pants down, making strangled noise every time Robert thought to press a palm to his naked skin.

“Gorgeous,” Robert murmured between two heated kisses to that vast land of white alabaster.

Tom turned his head, stifling a louder moan. Robert smiled, one cheek pressed against the bulge in Tom’s tight, silky boxers. He might be older, but he was stronger than Tom and could lift him up.

Which he did, in one swift motion that made him proud of his long training. Tom let out a surprised–adorable–squeal and grabbed his shoulders. With a hint of teeth, Robert grazed the pale throat offered to his contemplation. Tom was so malleable in his hands. Robert could bite him, squeeze him hard enough to bruise, and still Tom was encouraging him with those unbearably arousing little moans. Robert swallowed them hungrily, before shoving Tom on his bed and freeing long inches of leaking cock.

“I… There is… Here…”

Robert pressed a hand down Tom’s chest to keep him in place and reached for the lube and condoms in the nightstand.

“What do you want, Tom?”

He mouthed the other man’s cock, drawing his tongue on the slit. Tom arched his back, hands fisted in the sheets. He was one long line of muscles and snow. Robert felt the need to draw him, right here and then. Instead, he opened his mouth wider and let Tom’s cock find solace into his mouth. Down. Down. Down.

Gag reflexes were like morning runs: annoying and easily avoided. After chocking once–and keeping Tom from withdrawing–, he engulfed the whole length of him and started to suck enthusiastically. He may be a bit out of practice, but he moved his mouth over that warm length with an assurance that kept building. And weren’t those little moans and groans all the encouragement he needed?

“Rob… ert. Robert…” Tom’s breathing was speeding up. Without looking up, Robert grabbed a delicate hand and placed it on his head.

 _There,_ he thought fiercely. _Show me what you want, god mine._

And then he looked up. Tom’s eyes were dark, his chiseled cheeks and sensuous mouth highlighted by the moonlight. A tremor ran through him as Tom effectively pushed him back on his cock. Loki’s smirk–dominant smirk–flashed on that lovely face.

“You are good at this,” he said in a deep, throaty voice. “Suck me off.”

Robert obliged, because he didn’t have a choice; he was already addicted to the exotic tang of Loki’s–Tom’s–precum. He chased after what would come soon enough, what he would bring by sucking and licking, head bobbing up and down that shaft, a hard hand pushing against his nape, urging him deeper, maddening…

He came in his pants, expecting Tom to follow suit. But he found himself being rolled on his back. Utterly spent, he could only stare and wonder as Tom quickly got rid of his clothes and scissored himself open. Robert fought the sleepiness settling into his bones. He wanted to see that, _needed_ to engrave that sight of Tom pushing and twisting his own fingers between his cheeks.

“You’ve already done that,” he gasped.

Tom’s timid smile was replaced by Loki’s sly grin.

“Did you really believe I would let _that_ happen unprepared?”

Robert wanted to say that he wouldn’t–regretfully–come up soon enough to take the slicked prize Tom’s offered him, but he needn’t have bother; Tom apparently only wished to give him a show, for he quickly lubed his own cock and worked on opening Robert with those long, magic fingers that he wanted to suck.

“Fuck,” Robert managed to say. He already saw stars, and that was nothing compared to the explosion of galaxies that followed. Tom didn’t pound; he danced inside him, and if it was still fucking, the act was elevated to a paragon. His head kept bouncing on the pillow, his chest rose and fell too fast, every nerve ending was afire… But he couldn’t he had already…

“Lokes,” he gasped. “Tom, I can’t!”

“You will come a second time,” Tom ordered, voice hard. “Bear with me.”

His fingers sank in his sides. Robert grabbed Tom’s ass and urged him deeper, harder, not sure if the words actually left his mouth. Loki’s laugh rang over him and shot beneath his skin, hot white fire and semen coating his inside walls. He screamed and spilled his own cum on their bellies.

“Robert.” Tom’s eyes were glazed, but soft. An equally soft kiss was pressed to his lips.

“Sleep, my faithful human. You have served me well.”

Loki caressed his hair and lay down beside him. Just before sleep claimed him, Robert felt the god nuzzle his neck. A god made flesh, wonder in disguise.

Wasn't he one lucky human.


End file.
